Paris with The Holmes Family
by lemonsherberts14
Summary: Sherlock and Co. are going to France for the summer, when an unexpected addition to their party shows up, who is adamant on changing things for good between the detective and a certain pathologist for good
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes was going to France for the summer for perhaps the 20th time in his life- his childhood has been wrought by never ending holidays to the Parisian seaside with the person he'd hated most in the world- Mycroft, of course- but he had to admit that he had missed the large house and the memories it held. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone- especially John Watson, who's wife and four month old child, named Eadie at Sherlocks request-along with the only pathologist in London that Sherlock Holmes deemed acceptable to aid him in his experiments-were accompanying The Holmes family on their trip back in time.

His parents had arrived in Paris a few weeks before them, to prepare for the onslaught of people and Hell that would be on their doorstep very soon, so The Holmes brothers and their entourage( well, Sherlocks entourage- Anthea had be willing to come, until a sudden job in Pakistan that involved a very angry politician and some bad eggs had called her away) were made to find their own way to the holiday destination.

It was a short car ride for John. ect, and Mycroft, but Molly didn't trust London enough to leave her metallic green VW Beetle in the train station car park, so she and Sherlock split a cab. Again, he'd never admit it, but he was perfectly happy with the company. After Moriarty had been defeated for the second time, and Eadie brought into the world, John Watson had been far to absent in Sherlocks life.

When he had heard of Moriarty's return, the first thought in Sherlocks head had been,_ " How can I keep them safe this time?"_. But of course, now them hadn't just been John and Mary, or John and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, but Molly and Anderson and Donavon( who, though not as friendly to him as Lestrade or Anderson had been, had apologised so sincerely after he came back, that he could barely keep his blank expression, let alone allow her to think that she wasn't always, and completely forgiven). The moment he came properly to his senses he had Mycroft raise all of his friends and acquaintances' security level to as high as possible- he would not lose them like they lost him, he promised himself, and he was successful in that endeavour- but the toll that was taken by his mind was obvious to anyone who spent more than ten minutes at a time with him- he wasn't insane. Just a little bit stressed.  
It was only when Molly asked him if he was okay, for the second time in his life, that he broke down and told her everything, how he'd been wrong, how everyone needed to be safe, how afraid he was, how he couldn't do this, not again, that anyone really did anything about it.  
Mycroft made him stay with his pathologist for a few nights after she called him, which he didn't have a problem with. She smelt like coffee and Haagen- Daaz ice cream and formaldehyde, and her cat liked him, and sometimes she let him a share a bed with her, and the heat she radiated was enough to send the most stubborn person into the most peaceful sleep they will ever experience. And she was safe.  
And the perfect weight to hoist up on a lab table- _no, he couldn't think like that,_ not while sitting next to her in cab on the way to stay with his parents for summer. No, those thoughts were for cold mornings with cups of slowly cooling coffee in his hands and nights when he was all to alone.  
But not now.

Mycroft texted their parents before they got on the train, telling them that they were on their way, and then doors were closed and seats were settled in.

Mary and John were content to play with their daughter for the hours-long journey, and Mycroft was tapping away on his laptop, but Sherlock and Molly were bored as Hell for some of that journey. They'd been crammed in together because Mycroft, Mary, John and the baby had gotten the only remaining table in the carriage, leaving them in the two seats behind their friends.

Molly was unable to get anything out of her bag, as it was in the rack above their heads and she was too shy to touch another person things to get past them so she could read her bloody book for a little while, and Sherlock had nothing to do as he had read every book in his house once, and that was enough for him, and there really isn't much else to do on trains, _unless you had a table, and enough room to use your laptop._

So they were left to people watching, which was significantly more fun with a man who could see through people like they were cling film.  
" He's jilting a woman on their wedding day" he said, as a man hurriedly rushed past them, and ingot he next carriage, " And she smoked three cigarettes in the toilet". He delighted in the way she giggled at that, and left out all the nasty things, like how the man was jilting his fiancé because he found out she killed her previous husband, and the woman was chain smoking because she just found out her dad died in a car accident.

Half way through the journey, Mycroft Holmes got a text from a contact he hadn't heard from in quite some time. _Emmeline_, was all it said, only five or six texts from the number, everyone of them ridiculous and designed to make the Ice Man laugh.

The text was a picture of a young girl with narrow blue eyes and straight, waist length, black hair, sitting in a car, and five words, _See you in Paris, bitches!_

The elder brother rolled his eyes, and got up from his seat to show Sherlock the message.


	2. Chapter 2

Emmeline Holmes was an art thief.

Which made seeing her detective brother slightly... Dangerous.

But, hey, she likes to life of the edge, so lets drive from Italy to Paris with a stolen Monet stashed in the back of your car while blasting the Wicked soundtrack.

She'd originally gone to University to study physics. After her first month she'd changed her degree to art and not told her family until that Christmas, which was coincidentally the last time she'd seen either of her brothers. She did keep in touch with Mycroft, though, to make sure everyone was okay.

Emmeline Holmes did not do family. Her _family_ did not do family. It was just a fact of life, for them, that one of them could die and they wouldn't find out for weeks afterward.

So why was she driving such a long way to see them, you might ask?

Th answer lies in the tabloid newspapers.

She'd received an email from one of her "team"(the people she called when she needed more than one on a job) with a headline- He Made Me Wear The Hat! it read, with a picture of an attractive woman in the corner.

After reading the article, Emm called Mycroft to confirm the story. Bollocks, was his answer. The entire thing was for a case.

"He really needs a girlfriend" she'd said to him.

"Emm, if you can get him one, I will personally pay off your student loans"

"Deal"

So that was why she was journeying into the icy domains of her family.

And she was determined not to fail.

Molly Hooper had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

And he didn't actually mind that much. Or at all.

In fact, he couldn't look away from her.

The light illuminated her face so perfectly, and the worry lines that had etched themselves into her features were gone, and she had a small smile playing on her lips. He was beginning to seriously think about kissing her, when an icy voice broke through his thoughts.

"Brother, if you could tear your eyes away from your pathologist for a moment, I do have something to share" Mycroft said. He glared at him, then replied.

"Well, then, out with it"

A screen was shoved in front of his eyes, a young, familiar face permeating from it.

"Emmeline"

"Glad to see you remember her, dear brother" .

He didn't really hear him though. Memories were swimming through his head, of a thirteen year old Emmeline just after The Fall, a year before she started studying art at some Italian university. He liked her. She was clever. And a little bit mad.

"She's bound to set fire to something" was all he said.

"I doubt" his brother replied, ignoring his statement,"That dear Mummy and Daddy are aware that she is coming"

"Well I suggest you tell them, then. They'll want to set up a bed for her".

His brother regarded him for a moment, before returning to his seat.

John popped up from his seat.

"Who's Emmeline?"

"Our sister"

"I didn't know you had a sister"

"When she went to university we all lost touch with her"

"When did she go to university?"

"Four years ago. Little while after I left"

"How old is she?"

"She'll be eighteen in a few months"

"What did she study?"

"Will you stop asking questions, and pay attention to your child, John"

"Mary's got her"

"Well stop asking question anyway"

When John had turned back around, Sherlock had some time to think. Paris with his sister might be considerably more fun than just Paris with his family.

This trip might turn out to be interesting, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

They arrived in Paris at 5pm almost exactly, before climbing into two separate cars and driving towards Holmes House

Mary, John, Molly, Sherlock and the baby were sharing a car, for obvious reasons(the reason being that Mycroft doesn't really like anyone enough to share a car with them). Sherlock was driving, Molly was in the passenger seat, talking animatedly about a post mortem she'd done before they'd left-Sherlock was unbelievably interested in the topic. John offered to drive after he'd almost hit his fourth car, but he refused, and continued multi-tasking to the best of his ability.

It was almost half five by the time they arrived at the house-just after Mycroft.

The house was big, and made of grey brick. They could smell the sea the second they stepped out the car, though it wasn't in view.

Mrs. Holmes hugged Sherlock for minutes longer than he was comfortable with, while beckoning Mycroft closer( a demand he did not heed).

Both of their parents said affectionate hellos to John and Mary, and coo-ed for an appropriate amount of time over Eadie, but their main focus was on Molly.

"It's lovely to finally meet the woman who saved my sons life" Mrs. Holmes said, shaking her hand and smiling brightly.

"Oh" Molly said, shyly, "I didn't save his life. I just...helped a bit" . She looked down, then at Sherlock, and then down again, blushing prettily.

"We both know that's quite not true, " was all he said, before they were brushed inside by a shivering mother and an apologetic looking father.

"So, Molly" Mrs. Holmes said at dinner, "You're a pathologist" .

"Yes" Molly replied, arranging her peas into a line.

"Of course, Sherlock mentioned you while he was staying with us after... Well, after his death. He mentioned how terribly important you were to him"

Sherlock turned a slight shade of pink, but only John noticed, as Molly was going quite red herself and trying to stutter out a reply. Mrs. Holmes simply smiled, and continued, " He also mentioned how much he enjoyed-" whatever she had been going to share was cut off by a door slamming at the front of the house, followed by a shrill, sing-song voice proclaiming, "I'm he-re!".

And then Emmeline Holmes, the physics/art student/graduate, appeared, standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing combat boots and a jumper that said," I want abs, but I want pizza more" on it, long hair just brushing her waist, blue eyes popping because of the silver, smoky eye shadow she was wearing. Mrs. Holmes stood to embrace her, and the rest of the family followed suit, even Mycroft, her black lipstick leaving prints on everyone's faces.

As she shook hands with everyone, Sherlock noticed that her light green glitter nail polish shone in the artificial light of the kitchen in the same way her eyes did. She was up to something, though he wasn't sure quite what it was.

Once the pleasantries were over, Mr and Mrs. Holmes decided it would be best to let the children sort out the rooms themselves, and retired for the night. Almost immediately, Emm jumped into action, grabbing a bottle of cupcake vodka and some cherryade from her car, and settling them all down on the grass outside the house(some against their will[Mycroft]).

"So" she said, drinking from the bottle, and handing it to Sherlock, who was planning on getting very drunk, as he was sharing a room with Molly and hadn't prepared for it at all, "How's the worlds only consulting detective?" .

Everyone else had gone up to their rooms. Sherlock had planned to sleep on the couch(or force Mycroft to sleep on the couch), but, of course, Emm had decided to commandeer it, so he was stuck with either the floor, Mycroft, or Molly. And Molly certainly wasn't going to let him sleep on the floor.

"I'm fine" he replied, pouring some vodka into his cup of cherryade( a Holmes family recipe- if you pour little enough vodka into the cherryade, it just tastes like cherryade, if you pour enough in, it tastes like bottled heaven) . "Obviously there was the whole Moriarty fiasco, but it was dealt with. And John and Mary and Molly are safe. And Eadie's lovely. I'm..." He struggled for words. Happy? "Happy" .

"You hesitated"

"I'm very drunk, Emmy"

She shook her head. " Will" she said, "Will, for people like us, it will take a lot to make us truly, completely happy. It's not something I've experienced, I doubt Mycroft ever will, but you're the middle child. You are destined for something great."

"It's just a feeling, Emm"

"Not for us. Not for you".

Sherlock thought for a moment. It'd been ages since anyone had called him Will. Since before Redbeard died.

"I suppose you're right. But I'm not the one destined for something great. That's definitely you" . She wrinkled up her noise. He laughed, "You are"

She shook her head, kissed him on the forehead, and went on to bed. Or to couch.

Sherlock Holmes lay in bed with his pathologist, who was facing him and breathing quietly. She still smelt like Haagen-Daaz ice cream, but now she also smelt like his old bedroom, which, for some reason, made him happy. There was that word again. Happy. Emm was right. He'd never be truly happy. But right now, he was bloody close, breathing the same air as Molly and trying not to wake her up. He wondered what it'd be like if they did this every night. Climbing into bed with her, after a case, waking her up with a kiss to forehead and some tea.

He needed to be kinder to her, he decided. He would be. And so, he made the second and last vow he'd ever made in his life.

He vowed to himself, and to Molly Hooper, that he would make her happy. He would always be the person to make her happy. When she thought of him, that is what she would remember, not the cruel comments and the embarrassment.

And so he slept


	4. Chapter 4

They were hitting him again, cold fists slamming into him again and again, and his friends weren't doing anything about it, John and Mary Watson standing there, holdings hands, Lestrade watching on with his arms crossed, and Mrs. Hudson smiling happily in the corner. He groaned in pain, and his torturer laughed, cold, not really a laugh, more a forced noise coming from his throat. Please, he was begging, stop this, do something. His brother appeared next to him, smiling that smile of his, saying, "They won't do anything. Because they have realised that _caring is not an advantage_". He woke to screaming, and gentle voice consoling him, and an unfamiliar room surrounding him. It took him a moment to realise that the screaming was coming from him, and the dream came flooding back, along with the identity of the gentle voice consoling him. There was tears running down his face and sobs racking his body when she asked what happened, before realising it probably wasn't the best subject, and deciding to just hold him instead. "It's okay" was all she said, " You're safe". _

He was focusing on Molly when his mother called them down, listening to her gentle words of comfort, his senses honing in on how her hand felt as it skimmed his back, how she smelt like pomegranates because of her shampoo, how she looked, her eyes still tired, but her mind and her heart awake as ever. She followed him down, still holding his hand, but letting go just before the last stair- _stopping any ridicule from my brother, he thought_, smiling slightly at her. She smiled right back.

"Your sister is still asleep on the couch" his mother told him, "So we must be quiet" .

"Of course she is" he said, to Molly rather than his mother, "She's actually slept through a car crash before now. And she was the one driving" . Molly laughed, and again it was the best thing he'd seen in a very long time. He could see Mycroft watching them, while pretending to read the newspaper, and dropped his smile.

"I'm gonna go help your mum with breakfast" Molly said, and walked off.

"Alright asshat" he said when she'd gone, "What is it?"

"It's just you and your Dr. Hooper seem to be getting along very well, that's all"

"Well we are friends. That's how people are with their friends. Not that _you'd_ know" His elder brother smiled , before putting down his newspaper.

"Even I know people don't act like that with there friends, Sherlock. Just be careful" he said, " Mummy dearest will notice before long, and then where will you be?" .

"Hullo, big brothers" their sister said, stumbling into the kitchen, "'s mum making breakfast?"

"Yes. Go help her, we're having a conversation"

"Ooooo, a conversation, is it?" She asked, sarcasm dripping for her tongue as easily as if she'd been commenting on the weather, "Talking about girls?" . He scowled again, and walked off to find his best friend. "


	5. Chapter 5

Emmeline laughed, but then seriousness clouded her features, and she asked, "Did you hear him screaming this morning?"

"Of course I did. I wouldn't be at all surprised if the entire house did,"

"Well, are you going to talk to him about it?"

Her brother looked offended at the very thought,"Of course not. If he wishes for it to be between Dr. Hooper and himself, then I am not one to interfere,"

"Like you interfere with everything else in his life, you mean?"

A rolled up newspaper to the back of the head was her cue to stop talking.

When Sherlock did find his best friend, he was bouncing his daughter on his knee and smiling at the way she giggled.

"Wonder if I'll be like you when I have children," he said out loud, accidentally. "I-I mean if I have children. _If_,"

John Watson started at him for a moment, before asking, "Who do you think you'll want to have children with, Sherlock?" . He scoffed, "Irene Adler?"

"No!" He said, annoyed at John's presumption, "No, no, no, most definitely not,"

"Well who then? What would be your ideal woman?"

"I prefer not to make an idea in my head of what I want people to be before I have the facts as to who they actually are,"

"But, theoretically, though,"

"That's a big word for you, John, I'm proud,"

"Sherlock,"

"Fine," he sighed and began to pace, "Smart,"

"Well, yes,"

"Able to understand why I'm such a prick all the time,"

"I've known you for almost five years and I'm still trying it figure that out,"

"Shut up,"

"Fine,"

"Doesn't mind when I'm gone for days or weeks or months on a case," . He thought some more, and images of Molly Hooper sewing a stab wound up came to mind. That had been before the Fall. When he was still being a dick to her. He cringed at the thought, "Able to take care of me if I get injured on a case,".

"Well, since you never go to the hospital by choice, that'd be good to have around," Again, his mind wandered to Molly Hooper, consoling him that very morning, when the nightmares took him again.

"Kind. But also tells me when I'm being an idiot," images of that terrible Christmas flashed in his mind, and he grimaced. "I think that's it," .

John nodded, and Sherlock could see that he was working up to saying something.

"Come on. Out with it,"

His first and best friend took a breath, and then said, "Did you have a nightmare this morning?" This time it was Sherlock's turn to take a deep breath, and he sat down on a chair close to John.

"Yes," He could see John trying to think what to do next, and watched his best friend place his child on the floor next to him.

"How long have you been having them?"

"Since just after The Fall,"

"Christ, Sherlock," he muttered. He knew John would notice eventually. The shaking in his hands, the nightmares. The panic attacks. Of course, he didn't know they were panic attacks. All he knew was that, on occasion, Sherlock ran from a crime scene because the room looked like a cell he'd been kept in, or the torture method was something that he himself had been through. Of course he noticed.

"Have you been to a doctor?"

"I'm talking to one right now,"

"A psychiatrist, Sherlock,"

"Why would I go to one of those? I've been dealing with nightmares for the best part of four years. I can continue to deal with them,"

"It's not just the nightmares, Sherlock,". His best friend put his head in his hands. "We are looking at a severe form of PTSD,"

"No," Sherlock replied, "I am looking at a severe form of PTSD. Not you. You've got enough things to worry about. Don't bother yourself with me as well,"

"Sherlo-"

"No, I've heard enough. It is not your burden to bear," He left the room, leaving behind an exasperated John and a confused baby.

"I'm going out," he told his mother, pulling his coat on.

"But you haven't even had breakfast, Sherlock!" . His mother looked terrified at the very thought.

"I'll get something in town. Tell Mycroft I'm taking his car,"

Molly stopped him in driveway, and his sister listened from a tree she'd hoisted herself into only moments before the exchange began.

"I heard what John said to you," Molly said.

"You were standing in the doorway the entire time. It's a wonder he didn't notice," "Sherlock, I think he's right. You should see a therapist or something,"

"Like I told him," his voiced raised slightly, "It is not your burden to bear,"

"But it is though!" Her voiced now matched his, "You are one of my very best friends Sherlock, and I cannot just stand by and watch as you fall into yourself!"

"You can!" He was shouting now, "You can, and you will. Your help is appreciated," he unlocked the car door, "But unwanted,"

"So this morning. Was that unwanted?" . He paused.

"I never asked for your help,"

"But you needed it," . He looked her over for the first time. Standing in a gravely driveway, not wearing any shoes, pyjamas with little skulls and crossbones on them. Straight back, determined expression on her face, brown eyes swimming with tears that she was not going to let fall. "Come back inside, Sherlock," she whispered, moving closer to him. "Spend the day with me," he whispered back. Emmeline leaned forward in her tree to hear what they were saying. Molly nodded, "Let me get changed," . He smiled in response, and climbed in the car. Today was going to end better than it had started, he could feel it.


End file.
